


Teachings in Betrayal

by StarllingWrites



Category: Original Work
Genre: High Fantasy, d&d type world, magic fight, sword and sorcery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:41:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26475862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarllingWrites/pseuds/StarllingWrites
Summary: White stemmed flowers are for the dead. However, when given to the living, they are a death notice. It's a particular kind of bittersweet when two of my former students send me a white stemmed bouquet. I wasn't surprised; I knew they would come for me sooner or later. I did not fear death, but I wasn't about to go down without a fight. It was time to see how my old pupils had grown.— — —Contains: mild violence, mild political/anarchist themes, mention of regicide





	Teachings in Betrayal

**Author's Note:**

> This story started off based around a dream and then just evolved into this. I kinda want to write more? But currently have no plans to, so there’ll be a lot of unanswered questions—sorry. Might answer some in the comments though.

I knew they were coming for me well before the bouquet of white stemmed flowers showed up. They weren’t roses like before—instead, it was lovely arrangement of daisies, carnations, lilies and mums—but the message was all the same. Still, there wasn’t enough time to escape—

No; I wouldn’t run from this, from them. I had to trust I had set the wheels in motion for things to continue without me. I slipped a message to Brün after I took the flowers from him and set them in a vase. The press of paper into his hand eased the shock from his eyes, but his hesitation in leaving still shouted his worries for me.

Poor friend. I, too, wish we didn’t have to part yet. I lightly touched his arm and rose up on my tip-toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I love you, dear friend.” Despite the grim future quickly approaching, my smile was genuine and without fear. There was still one last thing to do and I wouldn’t let some silly fear of death pollute my next actions.

I changed into my ceremonial robes and waited.

Then the air stilled, hanging as heavy as the silence. They were here.

Time for the hunt.

“You know, Zlatka,” I said aloud to the visibly empty room. “I can recall the exact moment when I first knew that you would one day turn on me. It was that day in the back market—that apple incident. It had been such a vile, bitter taste in my mouth.” I chuckled. “And all I did was spit it out and continue your training.”

I brought my dagger up just in time to stave off Zlatka’s blade at my throat. If glares could wound I’d be charred in an inferno already. A vacant part of me ached, thinking if only she had shown this much focus and commitment to her training. “Did you realize it that day too?” I calmly asked.

She screamed out and struck at me again. I countered again.

“Are you still going to let her do all the work, Rossim?” I asked as Zlatka and I circled each other. She lunged for me; when I blocked this time, she had a dagger at the ready to swipe at my side. The moment it would have connected, I shifted, now standing on the sill of the far window. “Predictably following after Z’ka—have you told her yet? About what you really are?”

A bolt whooshed past me nicking my temple. His aim always wavered when he had even the tiniest of emotional overload. I wiped the trickle of blood from the slide of my face and licked it off my thumb. “And the rogue draws first blood. If only he could steady himself to make a kill for once,” I smiled and taunted. “Ah—but of course you don’t want me dead. Not until you get your answers.” I leaned back and let gravity take me.

The manicured bushes of the garden softened my fall. I rolled out of them and was on my feet dashing away before my former students could jump or shift after me. I rushed through the double doors, back inside, and turned down the hall towards the Labyrinth of Doors.

Another bolt sunk into the wood as I ducked inside the first door. I twirled my way deep into the maze, opening and closing doors so fast they all blurred. When I heard them enter the maze, I stopped. I listened for their movements. Rossim moved true to my path, while Zlatka went for the flank. They almost timed the doors they each took perfectly to hide Zlatka’s path. “Still sloppy, I see,” I projected my voice, reverberating it through every room.

“Oh really?” Z’ka murmured behind me.

I whirled around, eyes wide and arm raising to block. But not in time. Her blade kissed the back of my forearm before I was forced to shift to safety.

Finally, my students had learned something it seemed.

She was quickly on my tail now that she got a mark off. She shifted in just as I opened a door; I shifted out just as she became corporeal again. The teacher in me was proud to see her finally grasping her potential—even if it was directed towards opposite aims.

Further to their credit, I lost track of Rossim. And that was dangerous. The only grace in that was the Labyrinth proved challenging for getting a shot on me. As long as I kept moving, as long as I kept closing the doors I went through, he couldn’t get a sightline. So it was very confusing to hear the distant twang of his crossbow firing and then feel the bolt landing true in my thigh. I glanced up, meeting his cocky sneer through a hall of open doors.

They had been baiting me. “If only you two had shown this level of skill and dedication in your studies.”

“You never gave us the right motivations,” Z’ka said. She was poised to strike me from behind—only withholding to catch her breath and composure.

“I guess it’s time I stop holding back then, dear students.” I ripped the bolt from my leg and whipped it behind me at Zlatka. It clanked off her sword, falling to the floor. But I never intended it to land. In the time she was occupied blocking, and Ros was firing off another bolt, I slammed a hand to the floor and commanded, “ _Warp_!”

Gravity warped around me, then space. I swam through the air faster than a selkie, leaving a trail of warped bubbles behind me. By the time the bubbles popped and the world righted itself, I was far from the château.

But being away from the grounds meant I had to be on guard for others. And I couldn’t let up now—I had to be strategic.

I canceled my spell and continued swiftly on foot to obscure my trail. If I could get to the south-bank bazaar, I’d be able to take a minute respite to tend my bleeding wounds. They wouldn’t attack me outright there.

Mingling into the crowds, I began healing my three wounds. My temple and arm healed simply enough; my thigh was taking longer than I’d like. I needed a spot to sit. I dug a coin out of my pocket and tossed it to a merchant before helping myself to a scarf. I veiled myself and made for the heart of the bazaar.

In the center was a grand fountain. It was a common spot for gossip and rest, making it difficult to find an empty spot to sit. But find one I did. “ _Searching, eyes open; founding, unspoken_ ,” I cast under my breath. With the simple charm set, I focused on my leg. Those bolts must have been treated with something that was challenging my healing—my head wound not receiving enough contact to be similarly affected. Yet again, the bittersweet weight of their improvement clenched my heart.

The wound refused to heal. Whatever the cause, I’d need higher magic than what was at my fingertips to mend this. I ripped a length of cloth from my scarf and wrapped my thigh to staunch the bleeding however much I could.

The sound of the bazaar started to fade. They were close now. I closed my eyes and started whispering another spell. Quieter and quitter the world grew around me until there was only my voice. I stopped my chanting and looked up. Across the fountain stood my students, furious, still, but with weapons sheathed. For now. They spilt to pincer me in. I sat patiently.

“Don’t make a scene,” Ros said lowly as a throwing knife slid into his hand.

“I won’t, but will you?” I smiled. From the other side of the fountain. Their eyes snapped to me, then the spot my illusion had sat before them, then back to me as I sunk into the stream of people. They were after me like sharks to fresh blood—the thought making me throw a quick glare to my thigh. I maneuvered fluidly between the people, around the stands, through the halls. But just like me, Ros and Z’ka grew up in these markets and knew them well; they were another home in desolate times. At the pace they were keeping behind me, they’d catch me before I made it to the water.

“ _Refract_.” I held my breath for three seconds and when I exhaled, two copies separated from me and went separate directions. Now to see how they’d take the bait.

Ros diverted off after one clone, while Z’ka stayed—mostly—on me. Her path wavered to the side a bit, like she was tracking both me and the second clone. I didn’t dare glance to confirm. We needed to make it to the river. Despite what they might think, I didn’t want any casualties in this.

Not besides myself.

The water was in sight. I could feel the cold mist already. But as I parted through the crowd, I saw a line a grandguards across the street blocking the bank. I cursed under my breath. I had to follow through. Once free of the bazaar’s crowd, I bolted across the road without a care for the traffic. It could do nothing to me. Z’ka called out and the grandguards prepared to stop me. I clicked my rings together and cast more spells. “ _Give me lightning, give me air; earthly shield part the path till water’s grasp._ ”

The ground rumbled as arcane energy flared around me. Pebbles gravitated towards me in a vortex. Halfway across the road, I exploded forth. The grandguards were spattered by stones and forced back by the gale of wind I created. It wasn’t much. But they did lose their balance, most knocked prone. I skated onto the river’s surface and headed downstream.

Bolt after bolt whizzed past as I narrowly escaped Rossim’s fire. Zlatka was gaining quickly along the shore—I guess she still hadn’t grasped water walking. With close combat off the table for now, she turned to casting. There was just enough window between her casting and Rossim’s reloading that I sparingly had to dodge both at once.

I slammed into a ward and was left winded and dazed. Zlatka didn’t set this ward, did she? This didn’t feel like her magic, but she had been surprising me. The sting of another crossbow bolt and the burn of a magic missile quickly brought my mind back to the fight at hand.

I waved my arms out then up, creating a bubble around myself as I submerged into the river. I ripped the bolt out of my arm. I was getting sloppy.

Despite how calm the world seemed from here, I needed to keep moving. I quickly cast an air bubble down river to see if they were wise enough to cast the ward down to the riverbed. They were. With no choice, I started back upstream. The competing current I made chopped the surface and sent the few boats currently out bobbing wildly. There was no hiding my path even if I wanted.

“You can’t run forever,” Zlatka said in a Message.

“You have much to learn, child, if you think this is running,” I sent back.

I slammed to a halt and momentarily turned myself to stone. Water continued to rush around me chaotically. As it settled, I turned back then shot back to the surface. Waterlogged grandguards along the banks were recovering from the crash of waves I caused—some civilians had also been caught unaware by the waters. Z’ka was nowhere to be seen, but Ros was in range. Drawing my toe in an arc, the river began freezing beneath me. With a flick of the wrist, four icy spears levitated above me.

A grandguard was about to take a shot when Ros called out for them to stop. I smirked and watched him edge closer. “Why are you doing this?”

“There is far more going on than you are aware of. Just like when you were a child.”

“Don’t you dare bring that up,” he leveled darkly.

“The longer you wait to face those monsters, the more damage you’ll likely do to her.”

“Shut up!” he cried and fired a bolt. I sent one of my spears to meet it in an icy explosion. “That was all your fault!”

“Was it?”

He cursed and shot again. It took two spears to stop this one. I summoned more from the ice below as he reloaded.

It was time to dance.

Zlatka came dropping in, her shadow betraying her and allowing me to dodge her attack. It had been tempting to dispel the ice beneath her and let her plummet beneath; but there was little fun in cheap shots.

To combat my ice, she set her blades on fire. They met my spears with a sharp hiss and burst of steam. I didn’t mind. It obscured Rossim’s aim, made him hesitate. Then I caught a glimpse of a rainbow in the mist and got an idea. _Bend and bend, what’s not there; see me see her, where I declare_. Slowly the spell weaved its way around.

Z’ka cried out when the next bolt landed in her instead of me. “Watch your aim!” she barked as Ros.

“Don’t blame him, child.” I snuck up close and sealed her wound with ice, bolt included. That’ll keep her occupied. “Tell me though—why aren’t you letting your friends fight me?” Neither gave an answer, though I assumed it was along the lines of either they wanted some revenge first, or they knew the grandguards wouldn’t hesitate taking a killing shot.

Unfortunately for Ros and Z’ka, they were growing more and more restless. I saw it in the way they gripped their weapons; in their shifting stances; in their restless glares between each other and the three of us. Feral hunting dogs straining against their leashes.

One broke free.

With a crack of their staff against the ground, a thundering pulse of magic shot from the grandguard. The spell ate away at my magic; all my ice vanished and both Zlatka and I sunk into the river. Neither of us was prepared. I fought to the surface, though every attempt to magically pull myself from the waters failed. That was no Dispel. More like a null curse.

By the time I got myself to the bank Rossim was there waiting with his crossbow leveled at my face. I tried calling to my magic again. Still nothing. What a disappointing and abrupt end—nowhere near what I was hoping from this fight.

Two grandguards came up on either side of me and hauled me out of the water. I didn’t resist. I didn’t cry out when they shoved my face against the ground; when they forced the spelled chains around my wrists; when they grabbed me by the back of the neck and lifted me like a puppy until I was on my feet.

Rossim still had his crossbow trained on me.

A bit down the way, Zlatka was being helped from the river. I caught her burning glare for a second before a grandguard forced a hood over my head, blinding me. They then shoved me into the back of a transport. The ride was silent. Even the world outside the vehicle seemed oddly silent.

They didn’t take me to the court. No—the drive was too long and we took the wrong turns from where we started to be at the court. Where was it they had taken me? No sound nor smell gave me any hint as I was forcibly removed from the transport. There was a sharp clank, followed by a raucous of gears, of metal on metal. It almost drowned out the distant drone of a klaxon somewhere in the city. I was shoved forward, forced to walk. The gears groaned again behind me.

When we came to a stop a short time later, an arcane force challenged my mind. Someone had cast Zone of Truth. I could have fought the spell, but I freely submitted to it. I did not fear their interrogations. The spell took hold and my hood was removed.

“Speak your name,” one of them commanded. He was a well-dressed dwarf, though his lack of braids made me curious. Was he under a guise, or did I just not know him?

“You know my name. Why start with such trivialities?”

“To maintain due process.”

“So be it,” I sighed. “I hold many names—Amastacia Malquis, Izeth’s Emerald, Beast of Lilazar, Gravehand, Rektor.”

Zlatka slapped me across the face—always quick to lash out. “Stop skirting the truth to manipulate the spell! You will answer concisely or I will rip the answers from your corpse.”

I clicked my tongue. “Careful, Z’ka. Your friends here aren’t fond of such necromantic ways. Though I’d be proud if you could manage it. Makes me want to die now to see you try.”

Another slap.

There was some bickering; in the end, Zlatka disdainfully sat down on the far side of the room. “You killed Margrave Detto Grompli—yes or no?” the dwarf in charge firmly continued.

That’s what there were after? No, this was all too excessive just for his murder. I was intrigued to see what other slights they’d drudge up in this interrogation.

“No.” A grin slowly grew across my face as I ate up their confusion. I elaborated, “I did most of the work, but gave the killing blow to his wife.”

The frenzy of murmurs were quickly silenced.

“The siege of Lunberdon?”

“Assisted in its orchestration and executing the catalystic strike. Nothing more.”

The dwarf studied me intently as I waited for the next paltry malefaction they had on me. They approached within a breaths length of me. “And the pillaging and massacre of the Momin?”

Lead filled my nerves, weighing and twisting my guts. It had been so long since I last thought of those days in depth. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before answering. “There were multiple lootings of the Momins; my hand was not in their planning or execution. The massacre happened in two parts—firstly, during the first of the lootings, most of the cadet branches were purged. Others were picked off in the following week as they tried to go into hiding. I did not murder any of them.

“Secondly, eight months after that incident, the remaining Momins were taken care of.” I opened my eyes and glared fire at my interrogators. “I did not slaughter them… _all_. I focused on the core. I bathed in the King’s blood and would not hesitate to spill it again.”


End file.
